A Friendship Transcending Death
by Elf Eye
Summary: Legolas remains behind with Gimli when his father Thranduil departs for Valinor.
1. Chapter 1: The InGathering

**In a review of _Parallel Quest_, _Anarane_ suggested that I write a story featuring the reunion of Legolas and Thranduil in Valinor. I was going to put her suggestion on my 'to do' list, but a few sentences sprang into mind, and the story immediately began to write itself. This chapter sets the stage for the later reunion, and the entire narrative will run to either two or three chapters. Since it will be a relatively short tale, there is no beta reader. So if anyone catches a mistake, please let me know!**

**Chapter I: The In-Gathering **

"A Dwarf!"

"A friend," Legolas corrected.

"Don't play word games with me," retorted Thranduil. "A Dwarf!"

"Of course he's a Dwarf, Ada," said Legolas. "But I made my decision not because he is a Dwarf but because he is a friend."

"He is still a Dwarf!" shouted Thranduil.

"That is of no relevance," replied Legolas.

"_No_ relevance? No _relevance_! It is at the heart of the matter! You refuse to sail for Valinor because of a, a, a—a short, squat, bearded creature who stinks of pipe weed. Hardly of no relevance!"

"Ada, you can object neither to his height nor his girth nor his hairiness, for they are qualities both natural and inoffensive. I will grant you that his smoking can be noisome, but no more so than when Gandalf and Aragorn engaged in the practice."

"But, Legolas," said Thranduil piteously, "if you remain with him, I may never see you again."

Legolas hesitated. Thranduil had gotten to the heart of the matter. It wasn't that Thranduil found Gimli unworthy. Indeed, Legolas knew that the King had grown quite fond of the agéd Dwarf. He had watched often enough whilst Thranduil laughed as Gimli drolly retold his adventures. The King found Gimli's tales amusing even when the Dwarf made Legolas the butt of them. This very day Legolas had seen Thranduil shaking with amusement as Gimli entertained them after supper.

"Now, you think that this son of yours is a great rider, don't you," Gimli had begun, "but I must tell you, to the contrary, that he has come off his horse on more than one occasion!"

"You have pulled me off on more than one occasion!" Legolas interjected.

"Hush, Legolas," said Thranduil. "Let Gimli tell his tale."

"Yes, Thranduil," Gimli continued cheerfully, "it pains me to have to tell you this, but your son has a rare gift for coming out of his saddle at the most inopportune moments."

"I don't use a saddle," Legolas pointed out, triumphant at having caught him out.

"Which is no doubt why you fall off your horse so often," rejoined Gimli blithely.

Thranduil guffawed as if he himself were a Dwarf, and Legolas gave up and let Gimli carry on. It was an old tale, but Legolas had to admit that it got better and better as the years passed. 'The only thing Gimli omits', Legolas sighed to himself, 'is the fact that I broke a rib when he landed atop me. But, of course', the Elf reminded himself, 'I never told him that, so how could he know to include it in his story'.

This was true. Fearing to distress his friend, Legolas had never spoken to Gimli of the cracking noise that his elven ears had heard coming from within his chest. Rocks jutted up from the rolling plains of Rohan, and when the Dwarf, nervous at being upon a horse, had thrown Legolas off balance, the Elf had landed hard upon one. To make matters worse, Gimli, laden with axes and armor, had then fallen on top of Legolas. The Elf had suspected that being skewered by an Orc sword might have been less painful.

In spite of the throbbing in his chest, Legolas had never said a word of reproach to the Dwarf. The Elf bore his suffering silently until late that night. Then, when he was certain that Gimli was asleep, the Elf carefully slipped out of his tunic and asked Aragorn to tightly bind strips of cloth around his chest. Aragorn raised his eyebrows after the fashion of Elrond when he saw the enormous bruise upon the Elf's chest.

"Does Gimli grip you so tightly, then?"

"No, that accounts for the bruises around my waist," Legolas jested weakly. "This one upon my chest I acquired when I was caught between Gimli and a rock."

"No doubt when Gimli pulled you off your horse today."

"Exactly."

"That was hours ago. Why did you wait so long to ask me to bind your chest?"

"I didn't want to distress Gimli," Legolas replied simply.

Aragorn smiled fondly at the Elf. 'How pleased Gandalf would be', he thought to himself, 'if he knew that Elf and Dwarf had become friends. He had wished it to be so. He would be surprised, though, if he knew how strong an attachment has grown between the two. I think it would have exceeded his expectations'.

Legolas looked at Aragorn and knew what he was thinking. He smiled sheepishly.

"He's just a short version of Gandalf, Aragorn. Hairy and grumpy and smelling of pipe weed. It is impossible not to grow attached to the rascal."

"As you have proved today," teased Aragorn. "Wherever you go, Gimli is sure to follow—even when you fall off a horse!"

"If I were not in so much pain," Legolas retorted, "I would rub your face in the dirt."

Aragorn shrugged his shoulders. "Wouldn't make any appreciable difference in my appearance, would it?"

"No," said Legolas, laughing in spite of the pain. "No, it wouldn't!"

"Legolas," said Thranduil, interrupting his son's memories. "Legolas, I am glad to see that you are good-humored enough to laugh at a tale told at your expense." Legolas realized that he had laughed aloud. He grinned at his father. "On occasion, yes. And there have been occasions, I assure you!" He arose and went to the sideboard. "Gimli, would you care for a glass of wine? Perhaps," he teased, "you would like to match me cup for cup, as we once did at Edoras."

Gimli grimaced at the memory of the drinking game that he had lost to Legolas. "Thank you, but no. I shall just step outside and indulge myself in a pipe before turning in."

"Until tomorrow, then," said Legolas.

"Aye, until tomorrow."

After Gimli departed the room, Thranduil cleared his throat. "Have you told him yet, Legolas?"

"Told him?"

"That you are leaving," Thranduil said impatiently. "Surely you must mean to tell him soon so that he has time to decide where he had best dwell after you have gone. And be sure," the King added hastily at the expression on his son's face, "that I will leave behind more than enough treasure to keep him in comfort until the end of his days."

"I have not told him that I am leaving—and I don't mean to."

"Legolas," chided his father. "I am surprised that you would be so unkind to someone to whom you have sworn friendship. You must tell him."

"No, Ada, I must not. I don't mean to."

"I don't understand," said Thranduil, beginning to feel a little vexed.

"Then I will speak plainly: I have not told him that I am leaving because I mean not to."

"You mean not to?" said Thranduil. To him, Legolas's words did not seem plain at all.

"I mean not to leave," Legolas clarified.

Thranduil sat stock still for several moments. When he at last spoke, his voice was stretched as tight as a bow string, and he spoke carefully, lest he release a shaft that he would be unable to recall.

"Legolas, if I understand you aright, you say that you will not depart for the Grey Havens."

"That is so."

"May I know the reason as to why you would make such an extraordinary decision?

"Yes, Ada. If I leave for the Grey Havens, Gimli will be left alone.

"Gimli?"

"Gimli."

"You are remaining behind on account of Gimli?"

"Yes, Ada."

And then Thranduil let fly. "Dwarf…short…squat…hairy…" The words shot from his mouth as he struggled with his sorrow and grief. Legolas heard him out patiently, refusing to take offense, for he knew that the epithets arose out of Thranduil's fear for his son rather than out of any dislike of Gimli. If Thranduil spoke intemperately, it was a measure of the depth of his love for Legolas. And then, his arrows spent, Thranduil listened to the wisdom of his son.

"Ada, if I remain behind, you will still have Gilglîr and Taurmeldir and Tathar and all our other kith and kin. But if I depart, Gimli will have no one. His folk are lost to him. The most of them died when Moria flooded, and the rest perished in the earthquake that collapsed the Lonely Mount. All the members of the Fellowship are likewise lost to him—all save me! Merry and Pippin died long ago, and Aragorn has passed on to his fathers. As for Sam, no one knows where he is. He rode toward the West one day and was never seen again. Some say that he came to the Havens and was granted leave to sail to Valinor. For, he, too, was a Ringbearer, if only for a little while. But whether he sailed or no, he is lost to Gimli."

"My son, I am sorry for Gimli, but he is a mortal. It is his fate to die, as it was the fate of his kin and his friends."

"But to die alone! Surely he cannot be left to die alone."

"The last mortal to die must perforce die alone," Thranduil said flatly, trying to assume a mask of coldness.

"If I am still with him, then he need not die alone. And I _will_ be with him, Ada."

"Legolas—."

"Ada, you would have endured my loss in battle. Whenever I went out on patrol, you knew that you might never see me again. Yet you, a father, stood ready to sacrifice your son because the cause was just. Ada, today my cause is just.

Thranduil looked at his son and saw in him saw the stubbornness of the lad's mother—the stubbornness that had led her to sacrifice her life so that Legolas might live. 'I suppose', he thought, 'that I could send guards to pounce upon him whilst he sleeps and drag him bound to the Havens. But then he would no longer be my son if I betrayed him in that fashion. He would dwell in Valinor, yes, but we would be estranged for all eternity. It seems, then, that no matter what I choose, I must part with him'. Sad but resigned, Thranduil spoke aloud.

"You are of age, Legolas. I will not stop you. I cannot even appeal to your sense of duty, for, as we are to abandon Eryn Lasgalen for Valinor, I cannot say that you have a duty to be King over your people."

"I want more than your permission, Ada. I want your blessing."

"My blessing? Why do you need my blessing? I have said you are of age."

"I did not say I needed your blessing. I _want_ your blessing." Here Legolas looked down a moment. When he looked up Thranduil saw that his eyes shimmered with tears that he tried to blink back.

"It will be something of yours that I can cherish always," Legolas said simply.

Thranduil placed his hands on his son's shoulders and tried to speak. After a moment, he abandoned the effort and pulled his son into his arms. Long they stood together in that fashion.

"You have my blessing," he said at last, his voice hoarse and trembling. "You have always had my blessing."

A fortnight later, Gimli awoke to silence. He sat up and rubbed his ears in bewilderment. "So I am not to be serenaded by elflings this morning," he muttered. "Odd. Bedeviling me in the morning seems to give them such amusement. But perhaps I have slept late, and the little ones have given up and gone on their way."

It suddenly occurred to Gimli that, if he had slept late, he might have missed breakfast. Alarmed at such a dreadful prospect, the Dwarf grew suddenly energetic, leaping from the bed, tossing on his garments, and bustling into the hallway. Strangely, he saw no one about as he hurried to the Dining Hall, and when he entered the chamber, he saw only one person: Legolas. The Elf sat at the head table, an untouched plate before him, and Gimli's dish beside him. Gimli plunked himself down in his chair and reached for his spoon.

"Thank you for waiting for me, lad. I hope Thranduil wasn't offended that I failed to appear for breakfast. I hope you told him that it is a rare day that I am not punctual for a meal."

Legolas smiled. "Fear not, Gimli. Thranduil was not offended."

Gimli dug into his porridge. "Ah," he sighed appreciatively, "for all I'm late, the porridge is still warm. Hot, actually. Did you rewarm it for me? Thank you for your kindness, lad."

Legolas shook his head. "I did not need to rewarm it, Gimli. I only now took it off the hob. You are not late."

Gimli looked about, puzzled. "If I am not late, where be all the folk?"

"Gone."

"Gone? Oh, have they departed for the forest to celebrate one of those uncanny elvish rites of theirs?"

"No, Gimli."

"Are the lot of them berry-picking—even the King?"

"No."

"Well, durn it all, lad, where be they?"

"Gone."

"I _know_ that. Gone _where_?"

"West," Legolas said reluctantly.

"West?" Gimli stared at Legolas, trying to think what would draw the Elves to the West. To his sorrow, he knew that no Elves still dwelled in Lothlórien—alas! he would never forget his pain when he bade Galadriel a final farewell! So, too, the Rivendell Elves had abandoned Imladris—even Elrohir and Elladan, who had lingered after Elrond's departure but at the death of their sister Arwen had at last gone to join their father and Celebrian, the mother from whom they had for so long been parted. There was of course the Shire, but the Dwarf knew that Thranduil had no interest in that place. Suddenly Gimli gasped.

"You, you don't mean the Grey Havens!"

Legolas nodded.

"Legolas! If your kin have gone to the Grey Havens, why are _you_ still here?"

"Not _all_ my kin have departed for the Havens," Legolas said pointedly.

Gimli was speechless for a moment, but then he began to splutter. "Legolas! Betake those pointy ears of yours to the stables. You are a good rider, lad. If you hurry you can catch up with them!"

"I thought you said that I was a poor rider," said Legolas lightly.

"Legolas! Do not jest! Go and rejoin your people."

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, Gimli, I do not wish it."

Gimli had dwelt long enough with the Elves to understand what was at stake. "You can _not_ do this, Legolas. You cannot!"

"I see no reason why I cannot," Legolas said calmly. "Galadriel was right. She said that you were a jewel among Dwarves. Do not be surprised, then, Gimli, if I am loathe to be parted from such a treasure."

Now it was Gimli's eyes that shimmered with unshed tears. "Legolas," he said softly. "Be you sure? I am naught but one of the Naugrim, the last of a vanished people. When I am gone, who will you have?"

"It is what I will have that will matter then, Gimli. I will have my memories, and memories are eternal. I shall never be alone."

Gimli shook his head sadly. "'Tis a great sacrifice, you make, Legolas. You are quite sure?"

"Quite sure, Gimli. I will not say that I make no sacrifice, but had I left you, that would have been a sacrifice as well. So do not upbraid yourself, my friend! 'Tis my choice, and I hold it a good one."

"I hope you do not come to regret your choice," Gimli said doubtfully, "for then you might come to hate me."

Legolas shook his head. "I think," he smiled, "that if you haven't succeeded in driving me away by now, that there is little hope of your doing so in the future. You certainly tried your utmost when we were first thrown together as part of the Fellowship!"

"I tried my utmost? _I_ tried my utmost! I hope you remember, princeling, that _you_ were not overmuch concerned with making yourself agreeable!"

Legolas laughed. "I do not deny it. We have surely come to our friendship in a most roundabout manner!"

"Oh, yes," agreed Gimli, likewise laughing. "Very roundabout! From Rivendell through Eregion, up the slopes of Caradhras and down again, through the mines of Moria and on to Lothlórien, down the Anduin, then back north again through Rohan, to the very eaves of Fangorn Forest, thence to Edoras, and then Helm's Deep, and back to Fangorn, to Isengard this time, and then back to Edoras—"

"Peace, Gimli," said Legolas, smiling. "Your recitation of the journey will take nearly as long as the journey itself."

"Do you know," said Gimli, suddenly thoughtful, "I should like to visit some of those places again. I know they will have changed, but, well, not all of the magic can have fled. Surely, in Lothlórien, now, there must be some memories of the folk that once dwelt there."

"Yes," agreed Legolas. "It will be long ere the trees altogether forget the Galadhrim who once graced the Golden Valley. There we shall go, and we shall rest once more in Caras Galadhon, upon a time the heart of elvendom in Middle-earth.

"And where now is the heart of elvendom?" asked Gimli suddenly.

"Here," replied Legolas, placing his hand upon his chest.

"Well," said Gimli, smiling a little, "I shall have to avoid breaking any more of your ribs, then, shan't I?"

Legolas stared at him. "You knew?"

"Aye, lad. I did. Heard you gasp when I landed upon you. Saw how stiffly you held yourself for several days after. Knew you wouldn't like it mentioned, though, so I held my peace."

Bemused, Legolas shook his head. "Frodo once told me of some words uttered by Gandalf. 'Hobbits', the old wizard said, 'really are amazing creatures! You can learn all that there is to know about their ways in a month, and yet after a hundred years, they can still surprise you'. I may say the same thing about you, Gimli. I have known you long, but you are forever catching me off guard. It is one reason why I will not part with you, my friend. I am sure that you will continue to delight and amaze me!"

Gimli blushed. "Well, _you_ are predictable, anyway. You've never yet passed up an opportunity to make one of your fine speeches. But enough of this banter. Hadn't we better be a bit more practical? If we are to retrace our journey, don't we need to make some preparations? Packing food and spare gear—that sort of thing?"

Legolas laughed his agreement. "Very well, Gimli. Let us gather the supplies for our journey." 'And then', the Elf added to himself, 'I shall gather up memories'.


	2. Chapter 2: Cerin Amroth

**Thanks to the following reviewers: _ArodieltheElfofRohan, Fjellborg, Anarane, Killer Rabbit Rules, Shieldmaidenofeorlingas, Elfinabottle, Opalkitty, and Windwraith_. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Beta Reader: None, as this is one of my shorter pieces.**

**Chapter 2: Cerin Amroth**

Legolas lay on the moss under a mallorn tree. Looking up through its branches, he could make out a few bright points of light. Late autumn had come to Lothlórien, and the stars, normally hidden by the thickly-leaved branches, were becoming visible. He heard a soft soughing sound to the left, and turned his head to look at Gimli. The Elf smiled. The Dwarf had dozed off and was sleeping with his mouth open, as usual. The Nauga was no longer in the habit of snoring loudly, however. His stout form had dwindled and with it his stentorian voice.

Legolas studied his friend, marking all the changes that had taken place over the years. Sadly, he noted that the process of aging seemed to have accelerated during the last few months. Now, not only was Gimli thinner, but his hair was also sparser and had lost its rich red-brown hue. His skin was translucent, like the wings of a dragonfly. His whole being seemed to have somehow become insubstantial, as if he would be wafted away by the beat of a butterfly's wings.

It had not been so when they had first stopped in Lothlórien. After leaving Eryn Lasgalen, they had journeyed straightaway to the Golden Valley. Once there, Gimli had been spry enough to ascend—albeit unwillingly—to the talan in which they spent their nights. He had been strong, then, too, his arms still knotted with the muscles of a stonecutter and a smith. Both of those crafts had been needful on that journey. For as they neared Lothlórien, the trees had spoken, urging them to visit first Cerin Amroth. As they climbed to the summit of that hill, they found it necessary to force their way through a thicket of brambles. Gimli had done mighty work with the axe that day. Once they broke through to the center, they found the reason for the thorny barricade. In the center of the knoll, as if sleeping, lay Arwen, guarded by the thicket until such time as someone might come to erect a more lasting memorial. Then it was Gimli who devised the cart in which they fetched blocks of stones, long slabs that he himself carved from the bones of the Misty Mountains. It was Gimli who showed Legolas how together they might raise the walls that would forever shelter Aragorn's Queen, and it was Gimli who carved upon the sides of the tomb the elvish words that Legolas traced for him in the dirt. Afterward the Dwarf added some lettering of his own devising.

"What do those runes signify, Gimli?" Legolas had asked.

Gimli remained quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. "They would not be parted."

"But they were parted," Legolas said sadly. "They were parted by death."

"Well, I don't know," Gimli said thoughtfully. "My folk never dwelled upon what comes after—if anything comes after. My Da used to say, 'If you behave yourself only because you hope for some reward after death, then what sort of a virtue is that?' He was right in the main, I reckon. Take generosity, now. If you dole out your goods in hopes of gaining something in return, why, is that generosity, I ask you?"

Legolas was not altogether surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. Gimli rarely displayed it, but Legolas knew that the Dwarf had a philosophical bent that would reveal itself upon occasion.

"No, I think my Da had the right of it," the Dwarf continued. "It wouldn't do for people to spend their days calculating, as it were, what the payback would be after death if they did such and such a thing. There would be no virtue in the world if that were the way of things—real virtue, I mean. What folk called virtue would be mere chaffering for advantage—a tradesman's way of thinking, complete with scales to weigh matters to a nicety."

"Then you believe that death is the end for mortals?"

"I didn't say that, Legolas. I wouldn't want to believe in a hereafter where everything is tit for tat. That's a mannish notion. But that don't mean I wouldn't want no hereafter a'tall. I'd like to hope that after they leave this world the _truly_ good wake up in the company of folk of their kind—folk who weren't thinking, 'I've got to do this so as I'll be rewarded, or I've got to do that so as I won't be punished'. And if there do be place, then surely Aragorn and Arwen dwell there together."

Legolas nodded. "I like your notion, Gimli. Yes, I like it very much, indeed. I am glad you carved those words upon Arwen's vault."

Gimli reddened and grunted something in reply, and Legolas smiled. The Dwarf always became embarrassed when he was praised. It was true that Gimli delighted in telling stories in which he played the chief role, but over the years Legolas had noticed that the Dwarf always managed to mock himself a little in those tales even as he poked fun at others. Gimli might play at being boastful, but truly he was as unselfish and self-effacing as Aragorn and Arwen, those two souls who would not be parted.

_They would not be parted. _In the years that followed, Legolas had often thought of those words as he cherished his time with Gimli. How empty the world would be when Gimli was gone. Yet it seemed that they must inevitably part. Legolas was immortal; Gimli was not. After Gimli's death, Legolas, unless an accident befell him, would probably live on indefinitely. He was not absolutely certain that he would, but he did not think that, by remaining with Gimli, he had made the choice of Arwen, who had bound herself in marriage to a mortal and so had taken an irrevocable mortality upon herself. So Gimli would die, and Legolas would not. What then? 'I suppose', the Elf thought to himself, 'that if I made my way across the Sundering Seas to Valinor, I might be received in that place. Indeed it is more than possible; it is probable'. Legolas knew that his father would plead his case, as would many others. In a chorus would be raised the voices of Gandalf, Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, Galadriel, and Celeborn. The Ringbearer, too, would entreat that Legolas be allowed to set foot upon the shores of the Undying Lands.

'But it would be hard', Legolas thought to himself 'to dwell in a place where Gimli never set foot. It would be better to remain in Middle-earth, where I am surrounded by places that remind me of my friend. Valinor is very beautiful, I am told, but it will not be beautiful enough if it is nowhere imbued with memories of Gimli. Very well, then, I shall remain in Middle-earth when Gimli is gone."

Yet as the years passed he began to think that he must seek another way. He still knew that he could never depart for Valinor if it contained no traces of Gimli, but the Dwarf had become so dear to the Elf that he began to wonder if remaining in Middle-earth with only the memories of his friend would suffice. But what were the alternatives? He thought of this matter now as he lay on the moss beside a sleeping Gimli, who was no longer able to climb the rope ladder that led to the talan they had shared. Indeed, so frail had the Dwarf grown that he shook his head when Legolas offered to build a ladder, or even a staircase, for him to ascend.

"Lad, I stumble over the stones, I'm that weak. I hardly think I could lift my foot high enough to make a staircase."

"I could carry you," Legolas offered.

"Nobody carries a Dwarf!" Gimli huffed indignantly.

"No, but on occasion, somebody may toss—" Legolas began to tease.

Gimli feinted a blow at the Elf, who dodged him easily but then stopped in concern when he saw that the mock combat had left his friend breathless.

"Gimli—?"

"It's all right, lad," Gimli gasped. "It's all right. I'm thinking, though, that it won't be too many more days before you must turn ditch-digger. No!" he added hastily when Legolas began to object. "The ground is where a Dwarf is meant to be. I will be comfortable settled in the earth that gave me birth."

Legolas fell silent then, but he could not quell his fear and grief. They disturbed his dreams many a night, and here in Lothlórien they troubled him as he kept vigil by the side of his sleeping friend.

'When Gimli dies', he thought to himself, 'I may live on. But could I not choose to put aside my immortality? I have heard tales of Elves who willed their own deaths. Suffering from grievous injury or the loss of loved ones, they faded, their life force dwindling until they became as mortal as any Man. If I did so, might I not awake in the afterworld of the mortal races, Man and Dwarf, and so rejoin my friend Gimli?'

He considered this notion for awhile but at last was forced to abandon it. It was more likely, he suspected, that for his efforts he would discover himself cast into the Halls of Mandos. There he would be kept a very long time—perhaps forever—by the Valar, who would be displeased at his machinations. 'And so both Gimli and Middle-earth would be lost to me', he concluded sadly.

He stared up at the stars. Directly above was Eärendilthe Mariner, who for centuries had each night ferried a Silmaril across the sky in his starry boat. "The Sea," murmured Legolas, "the Sea." In his mind he heard again the gulls that had swooped overhead as Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas had arrived at Pelargir aboard the vessels that they had seized from the Corsairs of Umbar. Suddenly he sat bolt upright. "The Great Sea!" he exclaimed aloud. Then he looked quickly at his friend, hoping he had not disturbed the agéd Dwarf. Gimli slept on. Relieved, Legolas lay down again, but while his body was still, his mind was not. 'We must go to the Grey Havens', he said to himself excitedly. 'We must sail West to Valinor. I will beg of my kindred that they allow Gimli to set foot upon the shores of the Undying Lands. Frodo they accepted, and Bilbo, too. I expect Sam is there as well. Three mortals given sanctuary in Valinor! Why not a fourth? 'Tis true that Gimli is a Dwarf and never bore the Ring. Still, he was one of the Fellowship. And he was named Elf-friend by Galadriel. Surely the Wise will not overlook these circumstances'.

The more Legolas considered the matter, the more he became convinced that this was the path that he and Gimli must take. 'We have everything to gain, and nothing to lose', he told himself. 'If we are turned away, I shall bear Gimli back to Middle-earth so that he may be buried in its earth, as was his wish. As for me, I will possess all of Arda as a memorial to my friend. Neither of us will be no worse off than before. But if we are granted this boon, Gimli will dwell among the Blessed'.

'Yes', he resolved at last. 'Yes, we will do it. We will journey to the Grey Havens. It may be that a boat lies abandoned at the quay. If not, I can build a vessel large enough for two. I shall provision it with many water skins and lade it with lembas bread. We had better carry fishing line, too, for I do not know how long the journey will take. If worst came to worst, we could subsist on the moisture and flesh of fish'.

In his excitement, Legolas lay awake the rest of the night, but he was not tired when the sun arose. At the first sign of dawn, he arose and began to pack their gear. When Gimli awoke, it was to the sight of Legolas standing by their packhorse, cinching tight the straps that held on their luggage.

"I thought we were to stay on for another fortnight," said the Dwarf, puzzled.

"Gimli, I have in mind to visit the Shire one last time. Afterward I should like to journey to Mithlond."

"Mithlond?"

"The Grey Havens."

"Ah, I see." Gimli fell silent.

Legolas had his back to Gimli, and he allowed himself to smile. He knew what the Dwarf was thinking. More than once Gimli had opined that Legolas ought to leave him in order to join his kin. Now, knowing that his death was near, the Dwarf believed that Legolas had decided to journey to the Havens so that he might depart for the West as soon as he had interred the Dwarf. Well, let him think that. It would make him easier to manage than if he suspected that he himself were to board boat for the West

After breaking fast, Legolas and Gimli went one last time to Cerin Amroth to farewell Arwen. On that hill the golden elanor and the pale niphredil still bloomed, and the mallorn trees that surrounded the summit had not yet lost any of their leaves. "You would not be parted from Aragorn," Legolas murmured in Sindarin as he stroked the stone of her sepulcher. It felt curiously warm in the chill autumn air. 'It is a sign', Legolas thought. 'Gimli is right. Arwen's love for Aragorn endures, as does his for her. It gives me hope that my friendship with Gimli will be allowed to endure as well'.

"What's that you are muttering, lad?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is hard for me to say, Gimli. It is a matter close to my heart."

"I understand, Legolas. Puts me in mind of the day we lost Gandalf in Moria—thought we lost him, anyway. You could not speak of Gandalf that day; nor for many a day after. I do believe our friendship dates from that time. All our disagreements seemed petty from that day forth."

"Aye, Gimli. 'Tis true. From that day forth we would not be parted."

With that Legolas smiled and taking Gimli by the hand turned to climb down Cerin Amroth to where their horses awaited them.


	3. Chapter 3: Craftiness and a Craft

**Thanks to the following reviewers: _ArodieltheElfofRohan, JohnMayer1207, _and_ Eol's Hammer_. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you.**

**Beta Reader: None, as this is one of my shorter pieces.**

**Chapter III: Craftiness and a Craft**

Although the chill of late autumn had deepened into winter, the skies had remained clear, and the travelers had been unimpeded by snow. Only two months after departing from Lothlórien, Legolas and Gimli arrived in Mithlond and stood by the shore of Belegaer, the Great Sea. Gimli was unimpressed at the sight.

"It's just water," he grumbled. "A great lot of water, I'll grant you, but water just the same. Stone is more useful. You can build with stone."

"You don't think it beautiful?"

"It's grey."

"Today, yes. It grows cloudy, and the sea has taken on the cast of the sky above. Were it sunny, the sea would shimmer like the walls of the caverns beneath the Hornburg. You would think that jewels lay sparkling just under the surface."

Gimli grunted his skepticism.

"I swear to you, Gimli, that I speak the truth. Imagine that you stand without a torch in one of the recesses that honeycomb the ground beneath Helm's Deep. It would not be a cheerful place! But only strike tinder to a brand, and suddenly you stand within a treasury of beauty."

Seemingly in confirmation of Legolas's words, the clouds rolled aside, and all the colors hidden within sunlight sparkled upon the sea, as if tiny pieces of rainbow had been strewn by the hands of the Valar. Gimli gasped. Then he scowled at Legolas's triumphant grin.

"Fine, then. It's pretty. But you still can't build with it!"

"True, but you can sail upon it in great comfort. Imagine lying at rest whilst the wind does all the labor."

Gimli's manner changed at once. "Right you are, lad," he said enthusiastically. "You can sail upon it. But I don't see a boat hereabouts."

"I mean to build one—a small one, mind you."

"Do you know how?"

"I think I can manage." Legolas went to the horses and removed a small pack from a saddlebag. He unbuckled its leather straps and from within drew forth a tiny model of a boat.

"Elrohir carved this for me when we were elflings. I mean to pattern my boat upon it." He handed the tiny boat to Gimli, who held it up to the sun and studied it carefully.

"It is well made," the Dwarf said at last with a smile. The Dwarf had always taken pleasure in good craftsmanship. Beyond that, however, he smiled because he was anxious that his friend set sail in a sturdy vessel. Cheerfully, he returned the model to Legolas.

"You are no carpenter, Legolas. Still, with this model and some help from me, you can probably devise something that will float."

"I would be very grateful for your advice, Gimli."

"Advice? _Advice? _I'll wager I can provide more than words. I'm not dead yet, my pointy-eared princeling!"

Gimli was as good as his word, and over the next several days he summoned up all his remaining strength in his eagerness to see to the safety of his friend. With Gimli's axe, Legolas hewed down the necessary trees, but once the Elf dragged the logs down to the shore, Gimli helped split them into planks. When he was too tired to do that, he planed the boards to smoothness. And when he was too tired even for that task, he whittled pegs. All the while, the Dwarf smiled as he labored, glad that he could help his friend make ready for his journey to the Undying Lands.

'He never ought to have stayed behind in the first place', he said to himself. 'He's got to make the journey alone now, without any company to help and cheer him. I do hope he don't run into trouble on the voyage. I reckon he won't, though. He handled that wobbly elven craft well enough when we made our way down the Anduin. That one time we tipped over, well, I've always known it was my fault, regardless of what I said at the time. Yes, Legolas will be all right, I wager—especially with no Dwarf to throw his boat off balance!'

Encouraged by these and similar thoughts, the Dwarf whistled while he worked, which caused Legolas to laugh to himself. Growing up, the Elf had read mannish folk tales that always had Dwarves whistling while they worked, but he had never known Gimli to do so. Legolas was also pleased to see that his friend had a storehouse of energy to draw upon, for the Elf had feared lest the Dwarf perish even before the keel had been laid. He saw now that the Dwarf would stubbornly hold off death until he was certain that Legolas had been provided with a proper craft.

The two friends worked on the boat every day, even though they were now in the midst of winter and snow lay upon the groud. 'It is well', thought Legolas. 'By the time the boat is finished, the year will have turned toward spring, and the Seas will be less stormy'.

On the first day of Spring, Legolas removed the chocks that had kept the boat from sliding down the wooden skids that it rested upon. The boat slipped easily down the greased slideway and splashed into the water. Its bow dipped briefly, and then the vessel righted itself, floating evenly upon the surface of the water even before Legolas had stepped upon it to lower the centerboard. Both Legolas and Gimli felt joy at the sight, the Dwarf because he thought the Elf would soon be reunited with his kin, the Elf because he hoped that before too many more days had passed he would be able to bear the Dwarf away to the Undying Lands.

The next morning, after carefully examining the boat for leaks and finding none, Legolas raised the boat's small mast and set about rigging it. Meanwhile Gimli sat upon the shore, stitching the sails. By the end of the week, all was in readiness, and Legolas began to place aboard the boat the wafers of lembas that they had been baking and setting aside ever since they first arrived at the Grey Havens. To this store he added the water skins that Gimli had pieced together from the spare leather garments that the Dwarf believed they would need no longer. For good measure, Legolas also hauled aboard a water cask that he had found abandoned in one of the many silent chambers. Then the Elf placed within the boat the fishing lines that would be their guarantee against hunger and thirst should they run short of water and lembas.

After the boat was fully equipped, Legolas began to place within it certain of his treasures that had survived the passage of years. When Gimli and Legolas had left Eryn Lasgalen, the Elf had carefully packed these things, which were of little worth when weighed in gold but which he valued for the memories attached to them. Among them were a few objects from his earliest years, when he had lived in a humble cottage with his Edwin Nana: his little bow with its tiny arrows, the tunic embroidered by his nurse that he had worn the day he was taken away to dwell at the Great Hall, and the book with animal pictures from which Edwin Nana had taught him his letters. He opened this well-worn volume and leafed through it before he wrapped it in leather to keep it safe against the dampness of the Sea. He paused at the picture of Gwael the Gull, remembering how even as an elfling he had been moved by that image to yearn for the opportunity to see what lay Beyond, a yearning that had been strengthened by the sight and sound of the gulls at Pelargir. 'And now I shall at last have that opportunity', he said to himself. 'Even if Gimli and I are not permitted to remain in Valinor, at least I shall have been to and seen the Uttermost West. I only hope that, if we are not welcomed there, at least I shall be allowed to greet my father one last time. The sorrow that I have caused him, that is the one thing I regret. It would be good to be able to show him that I am well. That would comfort him, even if only a little'.

Legolas put aside these thoughts for the time being and continued loading the boat. The toy boat Elrohir had carved for him, that of course he stowed, as well as his matched knives, one a gift from Elrohir, the other from Elladan. With these he packed the whetting stone Glorfindel had given him on the eve of the Fellowship's departure from Imladris. Nor did he fail to place within the boat the bow and quiver that Galadriel had presented him when the Fellowship had departed from Lothlórien.

Some things Legolas did not need to pack. He was wearing his galadhrim cloak, one of those woven for the members of the Fellowship by Galadriel's elf-maidens, and as ever it was fastened at the throat by a brooch shaped like a mallorn leaf. And from his neck hung the wooden bead that Elrohir had given him long ago as a gesture of reconciliation. The wood for the bead had come from a toy bow that had belonged to the son of Elrond. Legolas had accidentally broken the tiny bow, and at first Elrohir had been distraught because it had been given to him by his departed mother. But in the end the bead carved from the splintered bow had become a symbol of not only the friendship between Elrohir and Legolas but also of the bond between Legolas and Gimli. For when the bead had broken, Gimli had cleverly devised a setting for it and hung it upon a chain. Now, whenever Legolas felt the bead against his skin, he was reminded of both friends.

Gimli had been watching without comment as Legolas made his preparations. 'After he has buried me, he will leave upon the instant', the Dwarf thought to himself. 'Well, that is as it should be. He has given up many years with his kin to stay with this old Nauga'. Suddenly Gimli felt very tired. 'Not much longer', he said to himself. Aloud, he said, "Legolas, I think I shall lay down for a bit."

"I think that would be wise. You should rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf!"

Gimli snorted. "I don't know what for. It's not as if I shall need it for anything."

Legolas only smiled.

That night, while Gimli slept, Legolas secretly conveyed the Dwarf's goods into the boat, carefully hiding them beneath his own possessions. Legolas had his little bow; Gimli had a tiny axe that he carried with him everywhere. His cousin Balin had given him the toy many years before that unfortunate Dwarf had departed on his ill-fated attempt to colonize Moria. There was also one especially-beloved pipe, presented to Gimli by Gandalf before the old wizard had left for the Grey Havens. 'I don't know if weed grows in Valinor', Legolas thought to himself, 'but he is very fond of that pipe'. Legolas also hid in the boat a soft, elegantly tooled but well-worn leathern pouch in which the Dwarf stored his finest pipe weed, to be brought out only upon special occasions. That pouch had once belonged to Aragorn, and the King of Gondor had gifted it to Gimli shortly before his death. Legolas knew that the Dwarf would cherish that small bag even after it was empty of weed.

Legolas smiled wistfully at the memory of that final meeting between Man, Dwarf, and Elf, and he fingered the vambraces that he wore on his arms even in these days when there was no fear of battle. These vambraces were of mannish design. They had been Boromir's, and after his death, they had been donned by Aragorn in honor of the Steward's son and as a pledge that the heir to the throne of Gondor would journey to Minas Tirith to defend that city and its people. Before his death Aragorn had insisted that his elven foster-brother take them. Since then Legolas had worn them always, each day strapping on the vambraces with both sorrow and respect, much as Aragorn had done long ago upon the shore of Parth Galen.

Legolas drew himself out of his reverie and continued lading the boat. Gimli's galadhrim cloak he folded carefully, making sure that the brooch was pinned within. Then, upon second thought, he unfolded the cloak and spread it out upon the ground. In its center he placed the drinking horn that Eomer had given Gimli after the Dwarf had matched cups with both Legolas and the Men of Rohan. He wrapped the horn within the cloak. 'It would be a shame if that drinking horn were broken', the Elf grinned to himself. 'It has been immensely useful whenever it has been necessary to instill a little humility in that Dwarf."

One memento Legolas did not need to stow. The three golden hairs that Gimli had begged as a boon from Galadriel, those precious strands the Dwarf always kept about his person. When Legolas and Gimli had sojourned in the Lonely Mountain, before that place had been so tragically destroyed, Gimli had devised a locket in which to keep this tiny treasure, and this locket, hung from a mithril chain, the Dwarf never removed from his neck.

Dawn drew near, and Legolas prepared breakfast, making sure to cook the last of the salted pork that they had purchased when they passed through Bree for the final time. They had procured this item at the sign of The Prancing Pony. Barliman Butterbur was long gone, but the food and drink at that inn were as good as ever.

Breakfast ready, Legolas roused Gimli. It was a little earlier than Gimli was accustomed to rising, and the Dwarf sat up befuddled. It suited Legolas, though, that his friend should be confused. It would make it easier to lure him into the boat.

While Gimli was eating, Legolas slipped off to farewell the horses. "There is plenty of good pasture hereabouts," he told them. "You could do worse than to stay here. If you find the life too lonely, however, always remember that the Periannath are a kind race. They would use you to draw their wains, of course, but they wouldn't lade them overmuch. If it's Men you would rather serve, make for Bree. If I were you, though, I should choose the Shire. The Hobbits are as elvish a people as you are likely to meet."

Legolas gave each horse a piece of a dried apple that had grown on one of the Dunland trees tended by the descendants of Hugh the Farmer. Then, after rubbing down each horse one last time, Legolas returned to Gimli, who was just polishing off the final bite of ham. "Gimli," the Elf said slyly, "you have worked hard on this boat, and it would be a pity if you never had the opportunity to enjoy the fruits of your labor. I am going to take the boat out this morning, and you must accompany me."

"Thank you, lad, but I prefer to have earth under my feet."

"No, Gimli, you must humor me. Time grows short."

This was true, of course, although not in the sense that Gimli assumed Legolas had meant. 'He knows I'm not long for the world', Gimli thought, 'and wants to spend a bit more time with me even as he puts that boat through its paces'. Touched, the Dwarf agreed, just as he had once humored his friend by clambering up a rope ladder into a mallorn tree.

"Very well, lad. I'll go aboard. But don't blame me if the durned thing tips over!"

"I won't," promised Legolas, "but you needn't worry about that happening. When we paddled down the Anduin, we were in vessels that lacked centerboards. This boat is much stabler than those."

"That may be true," grumbled Gimli, "but I don't remember seeing such swells upon the surface of the Anduin as those over yonder. The boat may be safer but the water is more dangerous, so it's six of one and half dozen of the other, if you ask me."

Is spite of his misgivings, however, Gimli allowed Legolas to hand him into the boat. After seeing the Dwarf securely settled in the center of the boat, Legolas piled all their bedding about him so that he was both warm and well protected from being thrown about by the movement of the vessel.

"Legolas, you pack me in as if I were as fragile as an egg," Gimli protested.

"Humor me," Legolas said again, and Gimli was reduced to grumbling under his breath. Legolas cast off the line and with a gaff pushed the boat away from the cay. Then he set about raising the sail. Once it caught the wind, the boat began to skim across the surface of the bay. Legolas settled himself at the tiller, and steered the vessel toward the entrance to the bay.

"Are you sure," Gimli said nervously, "that we ought to go outside the shelter of the bay? Wouldn't the swells outside be higher than the swells within?"

"True, Gimli, but we will ride the swells as a person rides a galloping horse, the two rising and falling as one."

"Oh, _that_ makes me feel better," snorted Gimli, who after all these years was still not comfortable on a horse.

Legolas smiled fondly at the Dwarf but said nothing. Soon they were passing between the statues that guarded either side of the entrance to the bay, and then they were in open ocean. Outside the protection of the bay, the wind was stronger and they moved faster and faster. Glad now for the blankets, Gimli hunkered down in the bottom of the boat. There, protected by both the coverlets and the sides of the vessel, Gimli actually began to feel warmed by a spring sun that shone in a sky clear of clouds. To the delight of the Elf, the Dwarf dozed off.

Hours later, Gimli awoke. He pushed himself up and looked all about. "Legolas," he said nervously, "I can't see the shore."

"Do not fear, Gimli. I know exactly where it is."

"Do you, now?"

"We have been sailing west. The Grey Havens are to the east."

"Ah, I see." Gimli fell silent, pulling a blanket tightly about him. The sun was setting, and the air grew cooler. After awhile, Gimli spoke again.

"Legolas, it is getting dark. Shouldn't we turn back whilst we can still see the sun? Once it sets, how are we to tell which direction is east and which west?"

"We can direct our course by the stars, if need be. I do not think that will be necessary, however. I have set the tiller. We will keep on a straight path."

"Set the tiller? But we are heading west! Hadn't you better wait to set the tiller until _after_ you've got us turned about and headed in the other direction?"

Legolas did not reply.

"Legolas?" said Gimli, who was now quite uneasy.

Legolas still did not reply.

"Legolas!" bellowed Gimli, a hint of panic in his voice.

"We are not returning to the Grey Havens," Legolas said calmly.

"Not returning to the Grey Havens?" said Gimli. His panic had subsided as soon as his friend had spoken, but it had been replaced by confusion. "Ah," he suddenly said, thinking that he now understood. "You will soon turn a little to the north or the south because you know of a spit of land upon which to bury me. It will be a wee bit of a detour for you as you make your way to Valinor."

"I do make for Valinor," agreed Legolas.

"Of course you do, lad. I always knew that you would."

"And you are going with me."

"What did you say?"

"You are going with me to Valinor."

Gimli shook his head. "Legolas, pardon me. I thought you said that I was going with you to Valinor."

"You have the ears of a fox, my friend," Legolas teased.

"Not funny, Legolas. Now, truly, tell me what you said."

"I said," Legolas replied patiently, "that you are going with me to Valinor."

Flummoxed, Gimli could only stare at the Elf for a time. When he finally spoke, he did so with great care. "Legolas," said Gimli, "if you arrive upon the Undying Shores by yourself, is it not likely that you will be embraced by your folk?"

"It is more likely than not."

"But what if you arrive accompanied by a Dwarf? What will happen then?"

"I do not know," Legolas said flatly.

Gimli spoke urgently now. "Then you must return to the Grey Havens and set me ashore," he cried. "You cannot risk being turned away on my account!"

"I can and I must."

"Legolas, you durned, you durned—you durned Elf! I do not ask you to make this sacrifice!

"I have not said that I do this for you, Gimli."

"If you are not doing this for me, then for whom?" shouted Gimli. "I don't see anyone else standing about!"

"Gimli, you know that you are dear to me—so dear that I did not accompany my kin when they departed Arda. Surely you must understand that I could take no pleasure in Valinor if you were not by my side."

Gimli stared at Legolas, his mouth forming an 'o'. At last he cleared his throat.

"Sentimental Elf," he growled.

"Stubborn Dwarf," replied Legolas. Ignoring the scowling Dwarf, he cheerfully let out the sail a little more. Through the darkening night, the boat sailed on.


	4. Chapter 4: The Voyage Out

**Thanks to the following reviewers: _Krissy Wonder, Fluffy's Fangirls, Estelle Tiniwiel, Kitsune, Dragonfly, Anarane, Elfinabottle, and CAH_. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you. **

**A substantial portion of this chapter is taken from "White Shores," with editing and new material to make it work within the context of this story.**

**I have gone back to Chapter 3 and added a mention of a water cask because one appears in this chapter. (I also corrected some errors I discovered after posting. I shouldn't have posted without a beta reading, apparently. Ah, well, pride goeth before the fall.)**

**Chapter 4: The Voyage Out**

Gimli had never been patient under the best of circumstances. Trapped for weeks on a boat, a mode of conveyance which he despised, he at last gave way to frustration. "How much longer will be rocking about on this durned craft?" he grumbled.

Legolas gave the sigh of the long-suffering.

"I don't know, Gimli," he admitted. "I have never been to Valinor."

"So we could be another s'en night away?"

"Yes."

"A fortnight?"

"Yes."

"A moon?"

"Yes."

"An entire circuit of the sun?"

"Yes."

"What if we run out of lembas bread?"

"I thought you were sick of lembas bread."

"I am, but I am even less fond of starvation."

"As I have told you, we will catch fish."

"And eat it raw?"

"Yes."

"How much lembas bread did you say we have left?"

"Enough for another month."

"Good. No so bad, lembas bread."

Gimli fell silent for awhile, leaning against the side of the boat. Then he sat upright suddenly.

"Is that a cloud over yonder?"

"Yes, Gimli, it is. I have been watching it this past hour. Let us hope that it will pass over us. We are rather low on water."

Legolas' wish was granted, and the two voyagers watched with pleasure as their water cask was refilled. Gimli tilted back his head and let some of the raindrops fall into his mouth.

"Ah," he said at last, wiping his chin, "I never thought I'd taste anything sweeter than beer, but this here rainwater wins out over any ale in any tavern o' Middle-earth."

"Thirst lends relish to the plainest beverage," observed Legolas, smiling at his friend. 'My friend', he thought, 'my friend. It is difficult to imagine that time was when that would have sounded odd. Now it would sound odd to call him anything else'.

The Elf's thoughts were interrupted when Gimli returned to a subject that was never far from the Dwarf's mind.

"Legolas," said Gimli.

"Yes, Gimli."

"You do think that they will have me?"

"I hope so."

"But you are not sure?"

"No, I am not sure. But if they will not have you, Gimli, I shall return with you to Middle-earth."

"There is nothing there for you, Legolas."

"You will be there."

"I will die. And then there will be nothing."

"There will be the places that you loved—that you and I both loved. Arda is a beautiful land. Wherever I step, the memories of my friends shall arise before me. I shall be forever smiling at the thought of them."

"Legolas, if they won't have me, I can sail back by myself. There is no reason for you to forfeit your kindred in order to return with me to Middle-earth."

Legolas shook his head.

"You lack all sea-craft. You would fall from the boat before the first day out."

"No loss there. I'm going to die anyway. It doesn't make any sense for you to sacrifice everything just to stretch things out for me a few months. Look at me, Legolas!"

Legolas looked. Gimli's hair had retained a few reddish-brown hairs when they set out, but now it had faded entirely to white, and his beard had grown so sparse that under a bright sun it seemed to vanish altogether. He was thinner than when they'd taken ship, and his wrinkled skin remained as translucent as a dragonfly's wing. As Legolas gazed upon the elderly Dwarf, Gimli was suddenly seized by a coughing spasm. The Elf took hold of his shoulders to steady him.

"You should rest, Gimli."

"What about you? You have hardly slept since we set out on this voyage—unless you want to count the time you have spent dreaming with your eyes open, however you manage that odd trick. After all these years, I still haven't gotten used to that peculiar habit of yours!"

"I find such waking dreams to be very restful."

"And I find them to be downright uncanny. What say you close your eyes for a change? I'd sleep better knowing you're not staring at me, as it were."

"Very well, my friend. I shall close my eyes for a bit."

Legolas wrapped himself in his cloak—the one given him by Galadriel so many years before—and lay down in the bottom in the boat. Gimli, also wrapped in his Lothlórien cloak, did likewise.

Legolas awoke to the sound of a splash. He bolted up anxiously and gazed all about. No Gimli. He peered over first one gunnel and then the other. There was the Dwarf, awkwardly attempting to swim downward. He should have failed utterly were it not for the fact that he was weighed down by the axes stuck into his belt. Legolas dove after him, batted aside his hands in order to seize and cast aside the axes, and then pulled him up to the surface.

"Gimli," he exclaimed as they broke the surface. "Are you mad?"

"Quite sane, really," sputtered Gimli. "Thought I'd join Boromir, don't you know."

"Boromir is dead."

"My point pre-cise-ly," retorted the Dwarf. "He and I really ought to keep each other company. You, however, belong with your kin."

"You _are_ my kin, Gimli. We are sworn-brothers."

"_I_ don't remember taking such an oath."

"An oath was never necessary. We became sworn-brothers the day we stood side by side at the Gate of Mordor waiting to die together. It was nothing that had to be said—and it cannot be unsaid, so don't even try!"

Gimli was opening his mouth to speak and now clapped it shut. He looked very unhappy. At last he spoke.

"Legolas, I shall never forgive myself if you are turned away on my account."

"And I," rejoined Legolas, "shall never forgive myself if you die alone, with no one to comfort you and to mark your passing. And as I am an immortal, I would have to spend a lot more time feeling miserable than _you_ would!"

Gimli couldn't answer this and didn't even try. Grumbling, he lay down in the bottom of the boat and truly fell into a deep sleep. Reassured by the Dwarf's snoring—which, by the by, Legolas realized that he had not heard earlier—the Elf at length fell asleep as well—with his eyes open, of course.

A month later Gimli was mournfully looking on as Legolas cast a line into the sea.

"Raw fish, eh?"

"Raw fish or nothing. The lembas bread is quite gone."

Gimli looked into the water cask.

"The water is almost gone as well. It has been several days since it last rained."

Legolas raised his head and looked about. To the west he saw a curtain of grey rain.

"Look, Gimli. We shall soon have water enough."

"To wash down the raw fish," growled Gimli, putting on a show of being disgruntled. Actually, now he really was quite sick of lembas bread, and the idea of raw fish did not disgust him as much as formerly. "Might actually be a nice change from those elvish biscuits," he muttered.

The two voyagers watched hopefully as they neared the storm line, and they readied the water cask. But just as it seemed that the first droplets would strike the boat, the grey rain-curtain turned to silver glass and rolled back. The two voyagers almost cried out in disappointment, but then they smelled a sweet fragrance and saw white shores and beyond them a far green country under a swift sunrise. In awe, both Elf and Dwarf watched as the land grew nearer and nearer. Legolas had abandoned the tiller, but the boat seemed to be sailing itself, drawn onward by an unseen force.

As the boat neared the shore, elvish eyes watched it intently. Elrond was the first to spy the tiny vessel, but he was soon joined by Círdan and Galadriel.

"Who is on yonder vessel?' asked Círdan, keeper of the shore here as he had been in Arda.

"Legolas," said Galadriel, who was as far-sighted as ever.

"Legolas? That is good to know. Thranduil will be overjoyed. He had been resigned to the loss of his son."

"There is one other," observed Galadriel.

"Yes," said Elrond. "It is Gimli son of Glóin." For Elrond was only a little less far-sighted than Galadriel.

"Gimli son of Glóin? He is no Elf," declared Círdan.

"True," said Galadriel. "But he has been named Elf-friend."

"Elf-friend or no," retorted Círdan. "He is no Elf. He is one of the Naugrim."

"That race is gone from Middle-earth, as are the Elves," said Galadriel mildly. "There is no place there for Gimli son of Glóin."

"That was neither our doing, nor is it our concern," Círdan replied firmly.

More and more Elves assembled upon the shore as word began to spread that, beyond hope, Legolas had been restored to them. One Elf broke away from the band and sprinted off to carry the tidings to Thranduil.

The boat reached the shore. Legolas lowered the sails and then leaped out and made as if to pull the boat higher up the beach. Círdan, however, raised his hand and stayed him.

"Legolas Thranduilion, you are welcome here. That Dwarf, however, may not debark upon these shores. You must push that vessel back into the sea, and he must return to the east."

Legolas obeyed, but as the boat began to drift from land, he climbed aboard once again and started to raise the sail.

"Legolas, what are you doing?" called Círdan.

"I am returning to Middle-earth," Legolas called back.

Gimli spluttered his protest when he realized that his friend meant to hold fast to his resolve to stay by the Dwarf's side.

"Legolas, you cannot do this!"

"Peace, Gimli. I would know only sorrow if I were to forsake you—and that for an eternity."

"Do you understand what you are doing?" cried Círdan in astonishment.

"Yes," Legolas said simply.

"You would forfeit the Undying Lands for a Dwarf?"

"No!" Legolas exclaimed. "I would forfeit them for a friend!"

"Legolas Thranduilion, what shall I say to your father? In joy he shall hear that one last ship has arrived and that you are upon it. He shall hasten to greet you, only to learn that you have departed for the east, never to be seen again."

"I shall remain offshore for a little while," called Legolas. "Tell my father to hasten so that I may greet him once more before I return to Arda."

"When his father arrives," one of the watching Elves said to another, "we must lure Legolas ashore. While he speaks with his father, one of us may swim out to the vessel and cut the anchor cable. The Dwarf will be carried away by the tide, and that will be the end of it."

His companion shook his head. "Nay, you are mistaken. I am sure that something dreadful would ensue if we did as you counsel. I was raised in Rivendell during the time that Legolas was fostered by Elrond. If Legolas swears that he will not be parted from the Dwarf, then he will not be parted. If we thwart Legolas of his wish, he will fade, and then these shall no longer be the Undying Lands. And then what shall become of the rest of us, if mortality should set foot upon these shores?"

His friend shuddered. "We had better let them depart, if that is the case."

"Or admit them both," replied the other.

While the onlookers debated, so, too, did the Lords and Elders. As Legolas had expected, Elrond and Galadriel spoke in Gimli's favor. Celeborn, Glorfindel, and Erestor, hearing the news, hastened to the shore to add their voices to Elrond's and Galadriel's. Gandalf was elsewhere in Valinor, in company with his belovéd Hobbits, but Galadriel bent her thoughts toward him, and he was hastening back. In the end, though, his support proved unnecessary.

Of those who spoke in favor of Gimli, Elrond was the most eloquent. He had reason to be, for he knew what it was to be parted from a child, and he had no wish to see Thranduil suffer the same fate. "Círdan," he declared, "many of our kin fell during the Wars of the Ring and so never took ship for these Undying Lands. Many are the parents who thus know what it is to be parted from their offspring." Softly he added, "I myself know this sorrow, albeit it was not war that robbed me of my child." Then he raised his voice once again: "But it is not necessary that Thranduil be like these parents, forever parted from his son. If Legolas will not leave the Dwarf, then let the Dwarf accompany him, for I deem that Gimli should take the place of one of the fallen. Oft has this Dwarf chosen to risk his life for this Elf, and as you see, this Elf willingly offers to surrender his place in Valinor to remain with his companion. Such friendship should be honored. Let both Elf and Dwarf together be admitted to these Undying Lands."

Círdan stood in doubt. He had never been called upon to answer such a request, and it seemed to him that he had no precedent to guide him. Then he bethought himself of the ship that had carried the two Ring-bearers away from Mithlond. Those sojourners had been Hobbits, not Elves, and they had been accompanied by a Maia in the guise of a Man. Then there had been that later vessel that bore yet a third Hobbit, who had also carried the Ring, albeit briefly. Would it be so strange if a Dwarf were to follow in the wake of these travelers, moreover a Dwarf who had been one of the Company of Nine, a Dwarf whom Galadriel had named Elf-friend?

Long did Círdan consider. At last he nodded.

"Very well, Elrond. It shall be as you wish. This Elf and Dwarf who have journeyed long together shall not be parted now."

The assembled Elves, moved by the words of Elrond, signed with pleasure, and several waded out into the water to help Legolas beach the boat a second time. Many willing hands helped lift Gimli from the boat and set him upon the shore. Others gladly began to unlade the boat, carrying the possessions of Elf and Dwarf to a nearby pavilion.

In the midst of all this bustle, Thranduil arrived. He happened first upon Gimli. "My friend," he cried, "my friend." He threw his arms around the Dwarf and squeezed him until the Nauga thought he heard his ribs cracking as Legolas's had so long ago. If Gimli had feared that Thranduil would be angry at him for depriving him of his son for so many years, this reception put paid to his apprehension. This was not the irascible Thranduil who had thrown Gimli's father Glóin and his twelve companions into a dungeon when they and Bilbo had been caught blundering about Mirkwood centuries earlier. No, during the sorrowful centuries through which he had waited, Thranduil had learned both patience and compassion. Moreover, loving his son as he did, Thranduil could not help but feel affection for anyone whom Legolas chose as a companion.

At first Gimli knew not what to say or how to act, but everyone was at pains to put him at ease and see to his needs. Glorfindel, erstwhile balrog-slayer, offered Gimli a newly picked peach, and it seemed that the fuzz of this fruit went a long way toward restoring the Dwarf's beard. Elrond produced a little vial of miruvor, and after Gimli swallowed a mouthful of the draught, it seemed to all who stood near that Gimli's skin became less translucent. Erestor eagerly advised the Dwarf that he expected a full accounting of all his adventures, and a gleam came to Gimli's eye when he realized that he had a new audience for his tales. And Galadriel, her face grave but her eyes sparkling, drolly asked him whether he had come all this way for another strand of her hair.

"I have come to the conclusion, Lady," the Dwarf retorted gamely, "that there is something more beautiful than a mere strand of your golden hair."

"Indeed, Master Dwarf? And what would that be?"

"A strand of your golden hair in place upon your head is more beautiful by far than a strand apart from it. I would therefore detach no more strands from your person."

Galadriel inclined her head. "Master Dwarf, the passage of years has but made you the more eloquent." Offering him her hand, she conveyed him to the pavilion, where an impromptu feast was soon underway. In the midst of the festivities, in hurried Gandalf, with Bilbo, Frodo, and Sam at his heels.

"Legolas! Gimli!" shouted Sam. "I knew you would rejoin us by and by. Legolas, there are trees here even grander than the mallorns of Lothlórien, and, Gimli, you will soon see that in Valinor the least of river pebbles exceeds in beauty any of the gems that decorate the gowns of the fine ladies of Minas Tirith."

"Why, Sam," laughed Legolas, "you have become a poet!"

"He always was a poet," said Gandalf, "but it took the Elves to teach him that. You will find that our Sam has a place of honor amongst the storytellers in this land."

Sam blushed a bright red.

"But he's just as bashful as ever," grinned Gimli. "He hasn't changed in that regard!"

Chaffing and chattering, Bilbo and the surviving members of the Fellowship passed all the long day in one another's company. Only once did they separate, when Gimli drew Gandalf aside for a little while. When they returned, they both reeked of pipe weed. "Ugh," said Legolas, "I wish I had not packed that pouch of yours, Gimli."

"Don't fret, Legolas," said Gandalf. "Gimli and I have finished it off. Unless another straggler arrives from Middle-earth, we must both perforce be cured of our predilection for puffing upon our pipes."

Legolas shook his head. "The in-gathering is complete, Gandalf. Save for a few Periannath, only Men remain in Arda."

"I hope they appreciate what a treasure they possess," Frodo said thoughtfully.

"If they knew the lengths to which you went to preserve it for them," declared Sam fiercely, "they certainly would."

Legolas had seen signs before he departed for Valinor that, sad to say, Men did not value Arda as they should; but he held his tongue, for he did not wish to distress his fellows. Gandalf, however, gave him a knowing look from beneath his bushy brows. 'We did our best, my boy', Legolas heard the wizard's words in his mind. 'All we had to decide was what to do with the time that was given to us. We made our choices, and now Men must make theirs'. Legolas caught Gandalf's eye and nodded at him. Then he turned his attention to that part of Arda which remained to him: his friends.

**TBC. Coming up in the final chapter: A conversation between Legolas and Galadriel and another between Legolas and Thranduil.**


	5. Chapter 5: The Paradox

**Thanks to the following reviewers: _Enigma Jade, A Whisper In the Wind, Krissy Wonder, ArodieltheElfofRohan, Marin55, MCross, Windwraith, Kitsune, Dragonfly, Anarane, Elfinabottle, and CAH_. I am delighted to receive any and all responses, whether reviewers are logged in or not. If you do happen to be logged in, I will use the reply feature to get back to you. **

**Chapter 5: The Paradox: Perfection Perfected**

The next day, Legolas awoke before the others and slipped out of his chamber even before the stars had begun to retreat in the face of the approaching sun. He did not do so, however, out of any eagerness to explore his new surroundings. It was true that Valinor was as beautiful as all the tales had claimed, but Legolas was intent upon other matters. First, he sought out Galadriel. As the light of dawn filtered through the trees, he found her in a glade much like the one in Lothlórien. Legolas's eyes were especially drawn to a certain plinth upon which lay a basin. Crossing the glade eagerly, Legolas stood before this plinth and looked hopefully at Galadriel, who smiled at his yearning expression, for it reminded her of the elfling of long ago.

"Legolas, surely you do not expect to find in Valinor the magic of Middle-earth."

"Lady, you still bear upon your finger Nenya, the Ring of Adamant. As long as you possess that Ring, you will not convince me that your Mirror has altogether lost its power."

"Do you think that this ring retains its potency now that Sauron's ring has perished?"

"At the Council in Rivendell, when we debated what was to be done with the One Ring, Elrond said that the elven rings might be undone at its loss; but he also said that they might be freed by its destruction. It is the latter that has come to pass, I think, for as I stand here, I can feel the glade humming with the strength of your wisdom and grace."

Galadriel inclined her head in acknowledgement. "What would you know, Legolas?"

"Aragorn had a moiety of elven blood. Is it possible that he has not altogether passed beyond the boundaries of this world? Could not Aragorn and Arwen be together, somewhere, even as we speak?"

"It is possible," Galadriel said, her voice neutral, her face expressionless. "You would see Aragorn, then?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"And only he?"

"No, I would see Arwen as well. It would be better for Aragorn to dissolve into nothingness than to dwell apart from his Lúthien. I would see the two of them, together."

"And what if the Mirror does not show you what you seek? If you venture down this path, you may suffer disappointment."

"But if I do not, I must dwell in doubt never ending. Perhaps I shall see what I wish to see; perhaps I shall not. If the first, at least in some part I may be satisfied. If the second, I shall suffer, but I suffer now."

"Very well, Legolas. But I promise nothing."

"I did not expect you to, my Lady," replied Legolas, a slight smile quirking the corners of his mouth. "You never did so before."

Galadriel picked up a pitcher and crossed over to a spring. Filling the pitcher with its translucent waters, she returned to the plinth and slowly poured the water into the basin. As Legolas watched, it seemed to him that the water turned to liquid silver as it cascaded from the lip of the pitcher into the basin. He drew near. The water was very still, and his own face looked back at him. Then a ripple began at one edge of the basin and slowly passed across the surface of the water. In its wake Legolas saw an empty room. In design it was elven, and Legolas tried to remember whether he had ever before seen this chamber. As Legolas watched, a door opened and Aragorn and Arwen entered together. Laughing and holding hands, they looked carefree, as they had on many occasions after Aragorn had returned from the ring-quest. They sat upon a settle, and leaned in toward one another. Just as their lips touched, the scene vanished, and Legolas again found himself gazing upon his reflection. He stepped back and looked quizzically at Galadriel.

"You have been vouchsafed your vision," she said. "Are you not satisfied?"

"May I ask a question?"

"You may. Whether I will answer—"

"—is another matter," Legolas finished for her.

"The passage of time has not made you any less of a scamp, Legolas," observed Galadriel, but she smiled as she spoke. "What would you ask, my child?"

"In Lothlórien, it was difficult to tell whether your mirror showed the present, the past, or the future. Do I see Aragorn and Arwen as they were, as they are, or as they will be?"

"In Lothlórien, I was famed for my enigmatic answers," answered Galadriel. "If my power has not diminished, then neither has my ability to keep my own counsel."

Legolas grimaced. One Age might give way to another, but some things, it seemed, were immutable. Galadriel gently laughed at his chagrined expression.

"I am afraid Glorfindel would be very disappointed in you, Legolas, if he knew you were able to make so little of your vision. Did you notice nothing that might help you answer your own question?"

Legolas considered. "I believe," he said thoughtfully, "that I have never been in the room that I saw, yet I would swear that there is no place in which Aragorn sojourned in which I did not sojourn as well."

"Indeed? And what do you make of that fact—if fact it is."

"It cannot have been a vision of the past," Legolas mused. "Therefore, I must have seen Aragorn and Arwen as they are in the present or as they will be in the future." He looked at Galadriel for confirmation, but her expression, as always, was noncommittal.

"What you say," she observed, "may be true—or it may not be."

Legolas felt his certainty wane. Perhaps he _had_ seen this room in former years but had forgotten. He had entered a great many chambers during his time in Middle-earth. Perhaps he had not always paid as careful attention to his surroundings as he ought to have. He gave Galadriel a piteous look. "My Lady, can you give me nothing more than an equivocal vision and words likewise unclear?"

"Legolas," Galadriel chided, "you undervalue my gifts. I have given you hope. That was all I ever gave anyone who looked into my Mirror. Go forth and dwell in hope of what may be, for nothing need ever disabuse you of the notion that what you have seen may be that which truly is."

'Hope', thought Legolas. _Estel_.

"Yes," said Galadriel. "Yes, my child. There is always hope. Will that not suffice?"

Legolas stood thinking for a little while. "Yes," he said at last. "That will suffice."

"I am glad to hear it. Now, then, there is one who lived without hope for a very long time—an Age in the eyes of Men. He awaits you."

"My father."

"Yes, your father. You have no need to gaze into a mirror to see _him_."

Legolas smiled his thanks and hurried from the glade. Galadriel smiled as well as she watched him go, for his gait again put her in mind of the elfling of long ago. 'I do believe', she laughed to herself, 'that he is scampering'.

Scampering or no, Legolas lost no time in making his way to the dwelling that had been set aside for Thranduil. Legolas was not surprised to see that it was nestled deep within a dell. After so many centuries spent dwelling in the dolven Great Hall, Thranduil would have been unhappy if his abode had been placed upon an eminence. 'I have already seen', Legolas thought to himself, 'that Valinor is not everywhere the same. It does not answer to one notion of how the world ought to be, for there is a great multiplicity of architecture and customs. One would think Varda very much like Arda in that regard. I suspect that the really important difference is that folk here have given over all thought of superiority. Those who dwell in trees do not look down upon those who dwell upon the earth—or in the earth, for that matter. Nor do the earth-dwellers mock at those who, to their eyes, might be said to perch like birds upon limbs'.

Occupying himself in such thoughts, Legolas passed from chamber to chamber in search of his father. He found the King in the innermost chamber, sitting with his legs stretched out before him, lost in the perusal of a letter. Legolas stood in the door and coughed politely. Thranduil looked up and then sprang to his feet, still clutching the letter.

"Ah, Legolas," he smiled. "You have done carousing with your friends and have at last seen fit to visit your father."

"I hope you do not mind that I did not come to you at once, Ada."

"No, I knew that our reunion was one best suited for the quiet that would ensue after the initial hubbub. Your friends are still asleep, I would venture."

The last statement was uttered with a knowing look, and Legolas laughed. "Yes, Ada, they are all asleep and likely to remain so until noon or even beyond."

"Ah, and Elrond's twins and Haldir and his brothers were not even present to egg your friends on. I am impressed!"

"Yes, I noticed their absence. Do they live elsewhere in this land?"

"The twins dwell near Elrond and their mother Celebrian, and Haldir and his brothers have settled near Galadriel and Celeborn. Yet they are often abroad."

"Exploring the land?"

"No, venturing forth upon the sea. They are at this moment attempting a circumnavigation of the Undying Lands, if that be possible. I suspect that their restlessness will at some point inspire them to return to the East."

"To Arda! Would that be allowed?"

"All things are _allowed_, Legolas. It is simply a matter of being willing to accept the consequences."

"What would those consequences be, Ada?" Legolas asked eagerly, a thought beginning to form in his mind.

"Aye, there's the rub, Legolas," replied Thranduil, shaking his head. "My son, it is not often that consequences can be predicted to a certainty. Of course, this is as it should be, else our calculations would be too simple. What virtue would there be in making choices if the outcome were certain?"

"I suppose that is true," conceded Legolas. "If the event were certain, it would be easy indeed to choose between two courses of action—a matter of basic arithmetic, really. Risk entails uncertainty, and if there be none, then wherein lies the risk? When one steps upon a path, one must be willing to follow it to wherever it may lead."

"Exactly. True courage lies in being prepared to bear the outcome of your actions, whatsoever it may be—as you showed yourself willing to do when you set sail for Valinor in the company of a Dwarf!"

Legolas blushed with self-consciousness, and his father laughed.

"As modest as ever," he teased. "After all your adventures, you still do not see yourself as a hero—which is why you are one, I suppose, for you have sought neither gain nor reputation."

Legolas's blush deepened, and his father laughed harder. "Well," the King chuckled, "_you_ will not put yourself forward, but I need not show similar restraint. No one questions the right of a father to dote upon his child, and I mean to make up for many lost opportunities in that regard. Only one person lives who may be able to outdo me in doting upon you."

"Edwen Nana," Legolas said promptly. "I have missed her. Where is she?"

"She has been summoned, as have Tathar and Tawarmaenas and their kin. She has been very busy nursing your friends' young ones, but she has always had love and to spare. She will not neglect you!"

"I did not fear it," rejoined Legolas, smiling now. He arose. "I must return to the pavilion now, Ada."

"But later you must dine with me—you and all your friends. Tell Gimli that I especially asked after him."

"I will, Ada. He will be glad to know it, for he feared that you would not forgive him for parting us."

Thranduil shook his head and handed Legolas the letter he had been reading before he became aware of the presence of his son. It was a missive that Legolas had given to Thranduil before the King departed for the Grey Havens. In it Legolas had bidden his father farewell and begged that he not grieve. He had also asked that Thranduil not depart Arda embittered against the Dwarf. "Do not let your days in Valinor be poisoned," Legolas had written, "as they should be if your heart harbored a grudge against my friend Gimli. He did not ask me to remain in Middle-earth, and he would never have done so. I embraced this course on my own, as much for my happiness as his, for the two are inextricably linked."

"I will not say that I did not grieve, Legolas, but I took to heart your appeal that I not be bitter. Whatever hasty words I uttered when you first told me of your plans, in the end I understood your decision. Indeed, as a father I would have exhibited a lamentable lack of faith in your virtue had I not respected your choice. Now as to Gimli: on his own merits he is a most admirable Dwarf, and I like him for that reason alone; considering that he is your friend, I must perforce like him all the more!"

Each well-pleased with the other, father and son parted for the time being, and a few hours later, Legolas returned to his father's dwelling accompanied by Gimli and the other surviving members of the Fellowship. Thranduil greeted all graciously but reserved the greater part of his attention for Gimli. He insisted that the Dwarf sit by him and superintended the refilling of his plate and cup. "Here," he would say, snatching a wedge of cheese from a passing tray, "you must have a bite of this. My son tells me that you are particularly fond of cheese. I think you will find this to be an especially tasty morsel."

"Mmpph," replied Gimli, trying to speak around the meat pie that Thranduil had urged upon him only a moment earlier. Legolas, watching, had to stifle his laughter. 'Gimli will fill out to his former size in a matter of days if Ada keeps feeding him at this rate', he laughed to himself. Eventually, however, willing guest though he was, Gimli had to declare himself incapable of eating another bite. Then the company adjourned from the table and resettled itself about the fire, where they were joined by many Elves, who commenced telling tales and singing songs as of old. Looking about, Legolas thought they might have been in the Hall of Fire in Rivendell, and he sighed with contentment. His pleasure was all the greater when he saw that Thranduil continued attentive to Gimli. Again the King had seated the Dwarf by his side, and now that Gimli had finished dining, he was able to keep up his end of the conversation.

"So, Thranduil," Gimli was saying, "no foes lurk hereabouts, grain springs untended from well-watered fields, honey runs down the sides of the beehives, and the tree limbs bend under the weight of fruit. How do you pass your days, then, seeing as how in this place there is little need for folk to exert themselves?"

Thranduil considered. Really, if there were any drawback to Valinor, it might be that it was a place _too_ perfect. How _had_ he been spending his days? In a sort of dream, he supposed, wandering about, remembering, listening to songs and tales of the past but paying no mind to the present. Indeed, there had _been_ no present. Nor a future, neither. Suddenly Thranduil grinned, realizing as he did so that this was an expression that had not crossed his face in a very long time. Standing before him was both a present and a future in the form of a short, stout, hairy Dwarf who could be counted upon to say the outrageous and do the unexpected.

"Gimli," said Thranduil, still grinning, "it has been a long time since you have entertained us with one of your stories. Pray favor us with one now."

Gimli hesitated. It had been all very well to tell tales in Thranduil's Great Hall, but in Valinor even the least cottage was imbued with such grandeur that the Dwarf wondered whether his stories would still be found fitting. He hemmed and hawed nervously. "I hardly think one of my tales would be suitable, my Lord. This is a grand place, after all, and my tales are but poor things."

"Your tales make folk laugh, Gimli. How could they be considered 'poor things' when they bring joy into the world?"

"If you are certain, then, that my tale would suit."

"I am quite certain."

Gimli looked around at the assembled Elves. At last he caught Legolas's eye. Legolas pretended to shake his fist at him. At that, Gimli smirked and cleared his throat.

"Now, you think that this son of yours is a great rider, don't you," Gimli began, "but I must tell you, to the contrary, that he has fallen off his horse on more than one occasion!"

A murmur of amusement rippled through the company.

"Yes, Thranduil," Gimli continued cheerfully, "it pains me to have to tell you this, but your son has a rare gift for coming out of his saddle at the most inopportune moments."

'And you, Gimli', Thranduil thought to himself, 'have a rare gift as well. I understand even more clearly than before why Legolas could never have forsaken you. If he had, he would have been forsaking that which makes life—whether mortal or immortal—a gift rather than a burden'. Gazing about him, Thranduil suddenly saw that Valinor's perfection had been at one and the same time a source of imperfection. 'A perfect place', the Elf marveled to himself, 'does not encompass all possibilities—and therefore how could any place ever _be_ perfect?'

Thranduil had never been of a philosophical bent, but in the days to come he often thought of the paradox of imperfect perfection, and he grew grateful that Gimli had put paid to the conundrum. 'I think', he found himself musing one day, 'that the Valar had always intended that Gimli should come one day to Valinor. He is another Frodo, I think: one who is small in statue but into whose hands is given a great charge. For Frodo, it was the destruction of the One Ring; for Gimli it was the fulfillment of the promise of the Undying Lands. For until his arrival on these shores, it was a promise and nothing more. Now this place has become real when before it was only a dream'.

Irascible, moody, unpredictable, and boisterous—but also merry, generous, jovial, and kind: Gimli to some might have seemed the unlikeliest of heroes, but to the formerly taciturn Thranduil, the Dwarf became something of a savior. 'Complete—that's it—complete', the King would say to himself as he smiled upon his short, stout, hairy friend whilst the Dwarf entertained the Elves who never seemed to tire of his antics. 'That's how things have felt since Gimli's arrival. I feel complete. Valinor feels complete. It's part having Legolas here, but not entirely, for Legolas himself would have been incomplete without Gimli'.

Yes, it did seem that with the arrival of Gimli matters had come to a successful conclusion. 'Let the circle be unbroken', some might have been inclined to say as they looked upon the ring of family and friends that surrounded a happy Thranduil. Still, let us always remember this: A circle unbroken can be a powerful metaphor for completion, but such a ring can also be an equally powerful symbol for entrapment. Indeed, if matters truly had been at an end, would that not have been the sort of 'perfection' that Thranduil had concluded impossible?

Reader, let us hope that Thranduil was right in his intuition. For if not, then here at last we have reached the end of this story—and that is as much to say, the end of this world. For a time, then, let us leave our Elves and Hobbits, our wizard and Dwarf, resting contentedly in Valinor—but let us hope that their contentment be not too profound—lest it rob us of ours!

**My friends, this tale is told, but the Tale is not told. I am thinking along these lines: Five members of the Fellowship have gathered in Valinor: Gandalf, Frodo, Sam, Legolas, and Gimli. In Chapter 4 of this just-completed tale, I hinted that all might not be well in Middle-earth. In Chapter 5, I hinted that it might be possible for folk of Valinor to sail back to the East. Years after the arrival of Legolas and Gimli, conditions have become so difficult in Arda that the few surviving Hobbits have been driven underground in every sense of the word. Descendants of Merry and Pippin summon help from Valinor (I haven't worked out how yet—presumably through the use of some keepsake or token left behind by either Merry or Pippin—perhaps the little horn that Theoden gave Merry, when blown under the right conditions, will do the trick). A Council in Valinor agrees that the Fellowship shall be reconstituted and sent back to Arda. Legolas and Gimli journey to the Halls of Mandos with one of the three elven rings (perhaps Galadriel's) to recruit Aragorn, who, although reluctant to be parted from Arwen, agrees. With the Ring, Aragorn rematerializes. Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Gandalf, Frodo, and Sam sail to Mithlond and journey to what remains of the Shire, where they are joined by a 'Merry' and a 'Pippin'. The Company then makes its way to Minas Tirith, where the Fellowship is completed with the addition of 'Boromir', who is the grandson or great-grandson or great-great-grandson of Faramir (I need to work out the chronology). I haven't thought things out any further than this, but I don't think I'm going to be able to resist sending our heroes off on a second quest.**


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